Advice
by genocideray
Summary: Set 50 years in the future. Ciel dies of old age; leaving Sebastian with his prize--Ciel's soul. Warnings for slight angst; character death. Kuroshitsuji belongs to Toboso Yana, not me.


**Advice**

The fifth piece of the advice in the Book for the demons, written by the fallen angel Lucifer, was this: _**Daemons are advis'd to make not contractes with soules not of ye age of fyfteen.**_

_Advice_ in the demon world tended to be just that; because _rules_ would invariably be broken, for demons, after all, were always ready to rebel against _any_ form of authority, and advice was, ironically, more likely to be followed as a result. But of course, there would always be those that ignored advice entirely, though no punishment from the demonic rulers would befall them.

***

Human life was so short to a demon; a blink of the eyes, and suddenly it was half-over, with nothing to show but little flickers in the memory. His Young Master in a suit, pulling uncomfortably at his collar on the way to the aisle, face set in a scowl, masking his joy. His Master, still youthful but with little children who had stolen the "young" from his title of address, toddling around at his feet; smiling despite himself, as they smeared mashed potato and pap over his best dress pants. His Master, face expressionless, as he ordered his pawn to destroy another group of villains when Madam and the Young Masters and Madams had gone to sleep. Another blink, and there was his Master—young no more—lying on his bed with a sobbing Elizabeth beside him.

The time of the contract was ending.

At the very end, Ciel stretched out a hand to him, hands once youthful and smooth, now dry and crackled; crumpled, paper-like.

"Sebastian…"

"My Lord?"

"Enjoy the meal." A small, sly smile that had seemed so precocious on the child, now seemed infinitely weary on the old man, who with a barely audible sigh, died.

Elizabeth buried her face in her hands, and burst out into tears.

"My Lady…" Sebastian said, although with Ciel's death he was no longer her butler.

"Take his soul." She snapped bitterly, her eyes angry and filled with hate. "Ciel was very clear about that. He wanted to make sure the contract was fulfilled. To _you._" Elizabeth was, of course, told about the contract before the marriage, but she had agreed to marry Ciel anyway as long as Sebastian did not get in their way.

Sebastian paused, unsure why he wanted to comfort her or remove that bitterness in her, this human he had hardly respected, "I was at his side because of the contract. Madam was at his side by choice. You alone have that honour, Lady."

"I know." She said bitterly, quietly, "But it is not for _that_ that I hate you."

"Then what, My Lady?"

"Because I know… I will never see him again. Not even when I die and go to heaven." She smiled tightly, then leaned a hand down to brush the still lips, "Because I am left with mere memory…and no hope."

Sebastian lowered his eyes as she brushed her lips to the cooling body.

"Take it and get out of my sight."

He did as she told him, holding the soul-orb in his hand as he sped out of the window and then, in mid-flight, he stopped and looked back at the mansion he had helped rebuild and maintain for the last fifty years. Still pearl-white in the darkness, familiar and home-like. But it was no longer his home.

Then he looked at the soul he had worked for; had won with his daily labours.

Ciel's soul.

Silver, the colour of strength, made up the strata of the orb, luminescent and translucent in the night. It was shot through with a rainbow of colours that shifted and glistered in the moonlight. Red, the colour of anger, twined tightly with black, the colour of despair, floated in a forlorn knot near the core of the orb, but kept being brushed off by blue and violet threads of happiness which danced briefly, dissolved and reformed. Pink and orange glittering bits of trust and hope anchored the threads to a small golden orb which was centred precisely in the middle. _Gold is… gold is…_

_Gold is love._

And within the gold orb, Sebastian glimpsed images of Elizabeth, the children, his long deceased parents—and one which caused his throat to feel strangely clogged—his own face.

_Left with mere memory…and no hope. I will never see him again._

Choking back a sudden sob, he grabbed the orb and shoved it into his pocket, and with his dark , dark wings, flew upwards into the sky.

***

The fifth piece of the advice in the book of the demons, written by the fallen angel Lucifer, was this, _**Daemons are advis'd to make not contractes with soules not of ye age of fyfteen.**_

There would always be those that ignored the advice entirely, but those who did usually rued their disobedience.

For even a demons would love a person he had seen growing up.


End file.
